Bad Candy Striper

I pulled my hands and head away from his dick, creating an array of saliva strings that stretched and fell between us, glistening in the low green light. It remained pointing at me, throbbing as I looked up at my elderly conqueror.

"Please Mister Wheeler! More!" I pled, my voice raspy, turning onto my back, raising and grabbing my ankles, and bouncing my pelvis up and down on the desk impatiently. "Fuckme!" I begged. "You jerk!" I taunted a moment later in response to his chest heaving as he silently laughed at me.

I then watched his lips purse and a gathered quantity of warm saliva was flung across the bridge of my nose. It soon clouded the vision in both eyes, and stunk of the nasty collards and navy beans I had smelled upon entering the building. While distracted by clearing my eyes and trying not to stab my cornea with my long nails, I didn't see his next move coming.

My labia were suddenly burning from a harsh slap between my thighs. My clit throbbed within its shroud, enjoying the brief contact. Its desire for more attention was answered without request as his open hand sailed repeatedly downward and viciously assaulted my outer lips, whose cries for mercy were overruled by my roasting, aqueous pussy's hunger and the hope that he would continue, as a similar number of successive strikes would bring me to orgasm.

Alas, he stopped, and continued hobbling back to the end of the desk, where my screaming pussy ached for more of his dick. As Mr. Wheeler arrived he grabbed an ankle and shoved my leg downward, twisting my torso back onto its side, and finally, my stomach. As my sore nipples were mashed against the desk top, my ass cheeks instantly burned as he paddled me with what I assumed was the back of the clipboard he had pulled from its hook on the wall. My only saving grace was the noise level of the short but virulent spanking, as he must not have wanted his pending violation interrupted.

In this position my pussy was too low for him to enter me, and his strong hand forced one leg up until I was coiled up on my side, ass overhanging the edge. He maneuvered us around until he could shove his stiff meat back into my gushing slit. Not content to allow me to simply lie there with a leg held up by his abbreviated limb and enjoy his rhythmic battering of my vaginal walls, Mr. Wheeler grabbed my wrist and bent my arm painfully behind my back, knuckles nearly planted between my shoulder blades. My shoulder ached as he occasionally eased the pressure then yanked it back into place, all while not missing a stroke inside me. I could feel his nuts slam into the waterfall of my juices down a still-stinging ass cheek.

As I reveled in the pleasure-and-pain glory of the most intense fuck of my life so far, sweating, and - truthfully - enjoying the humiliation of the random receipt of his saliva on my torso, I realized this would likely be his final fuck. In a warped effort to make it more memorable for him, maybe to garner a few more slaps, I spoke, my lack of breath - and judgment - evident.

"Is this all you got, you old bastard?" Bad idea.

His erection was suddenly absent from my pussy and he released my restrained arm, which was nearly numb and virtually immobile. Instantly was I lifted into a partial sitting position by his strong hand clamping down on my neck, squeezing the life out of me. I felt air underneath my ass, suspended momentarily over the film of sweat and vaginal fluid on its surface. Something caught my eye - and distracted me from lamenting my pending death - as he gripped and shook me like a rag doll. Projecting from beneath his pajama top, Mr. Wheeler's uncontrolled, jumping cock was spraying sperm chaotically everywhere - the desk, my thigh, my pubic hair, and into the darkness. I collapsed onto the metal surface a few moments later as he released me, his dick dripping semen like a leaky faucet. The sharp scents of accumulated body odor and pussy were thick in the air.

As my elderly lover dressed, I stood naked and recovered, wheezing and coughing into my gathered clothes to mask the noise. Despite the fact that I now regretted everything - from my first taste of his semen to the beaten, sweaty mess I had become, there in the eerie green darkness, my clit was wailing for attention after the best fuck I had ever had in my young life.

As I dressed, Mr. Wheeler typed out a message on the computer terminal. Naively expecting some sentimental drivel, I read the message:

">VERY GOOD WHORE NOW TAKE ME TO PISS".

Dressed back into my uniform as best I could, I pushed Mr. Wheeler and his chair onto the elevator, kissed him on the lips, then stepped out. I heard him pounding the arm of the wheelchair angrily as the doors shut behind me. I dashed quickly back to the storage room terminal to erase my tracks and grab my purse. Within minutes I was in the stairwell and out into the parking lot as a beautiful sunset graced the horizon.

It was too risky to return him to his room or even a restroom. The question of just who rolled the patient away - I used a random name tag 'Donna' I had found in a drawer - for a fictional X-ray, then abandoned him in an elevator that evening would have to remain a mystery.

Once home, I smacked, stretched and rubbed my clit for several exceptional orgasms that night as I stripped and crawled up our bungalow's narrow stairwell toward my room.

While I would indulge in - and continue to - my masochistic desires with subsequent lovers of both genders - and endure considerable escalations - the memories of those intense, first occurrences at the hands of the sadistic old man remain with me.